As Death Draws Near (30 page)

In the carriage yard he leapt down with far more spryness than a man who had spent several hours in the saddle should have been allowed, and rounded my horse to lift me down. I gasped in surprise at his swift movements, but did not think of arguing, even when he pulled my arm through his and guided me into the house and up the stairs. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, a recalled reaction from confrontations with my first husband, but I ignored them, trying to steady the accelerated beating of my heart.

He closed the door to our bedchamber with a sharp click before rounding on me. “Where were you?”

“Just now?” I replied calmly, playing for time as I crossed toward my dressing table, removing my riding gloves.

“You know when, Kiera.”

“We were paying a visit to Colin LaTouche. I discovered . . .”

“After I explicitly told you
not
to go anywhere but the abbey.”

“I hadn't planned to go anywhere else, but something I uncovered today made a trip to Eden Park necessary.”

“So necessary that you couldn't wait an hour or two longer for me to return?”

I flushed under the scrutiny of his snapping eyes. “I had no way of knowing when you would return. You told me yourself you might not be back until nightfall.” I slapped my gloves down on the table. “And Colin LaTouche said he was leaving for his Grand Tour within the week.”

“He's not leaving until Tuesday.”

I stiffened. “Well, I didn't know that. How did you?”

“He
told
me,” he practically sneered.

“Not while I was present.”

“No. But you could have asked me.”

“No, I couldn't. Because you weren't
here
.” I removed the hat pins from my hair and dropped them onto the table beside the gloves with a very unsatisfying ping. At least the hat made a louder thump when it joined them.

Gage's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. “You should have listened to me regardless. I doubt anything you learned could have been so important that you had to disregard my wishes for your safety.”

“I didn't disregard them. Anderley and Bree were with me, and Anderley and I were both armed. Besides, nothing happened.”

“But something could have. And I might have been miles away in Dublin.”

I could hear the worry behind his anger, see the concern in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, but that didn't mean I was going to relent. “What do you want me to say? I made a reasoned decision to take the risk based on the information available to me. I won't be wrapped in cotton, Sebastian. I won't be cossetted. You knew this when you married me.”

His hands lifted to clasp my elbows firmly. “I did. But you also promised to listen to me when I made a reasonable request.”

“And I
did
listen to you. My visit to Eden Park wasn't some lark.”

His jaw clenched, telling me he was not going to agree with me. “What was
so
important that you felt you needed to disobey me and go there? What did you uncover?”

I lifted my chin, staring into his eyes defiantly. “That Colin LaTouche was engaged to marry Miss Lennox.” As he still gripped my arms, I felt his body jolt in surprise, and I nodded once in satisfaction. “She broke it off just before she entered the convent.”

“How strange of Mr. LaTouche to neglect to tell us that.”

“That's precisely what I thought.” Then I proceeded to tell him everything I'd learned from Miss Cahill and Colin, not bothering to hide the frustration I still felt at not having any clear evidence to prove who killed Miss Lennox and Mother Fidelis. “Do you think Mr. LaTouche could have hired someone to kill both women?”

“It's possible,” he replied, now perched on the edge of the bed. “But nearly
im
possible to confirm unless the man he hired confesses. At this point, I don't see that happening, as we don't even have an inkling who this mystery man is.” His voice was sharp with irritation, and I stiffened, feeling as if he'd just dismissed my idea as being stupid.

“Well, I don't know what else to think,” I countered, my words growing more and more strident. “Mother Mary Paul has an alibi. The Ribbonmen have no motive. Blaming Marsdale seems ridiculous, as we've absolutely no proof he was even here at the time of Miss Lennox's murder. The same goes for Mother Mary Fidelis's family. So who does that leave us with? The Orangemen and the LaTouches. But the LaTouches will vouch for each other.”

Gage reached out a hand to rub my arm. “What of Mr. Scully? What did he have to say?”

I pressed a hand to my brow. “Anderley says he was far too heavily dosed with laudanum to speak, let alone make any sense.”

He nodded as if he'd expected as much.

“What of you? Were you able to see Lord Anglesey?”

“I was.” He sighed. “Little good it did us.” He turned toward me as I lifted the train of my charcoal gray riding habit to perch on the bed next to him. “He knew nothing of Miss Lennox's activities, and was quite cross not to have been informed.”

“I imagine so.” It seemed we weren't the only ones who'd been left in the dark. Which seemed to confirm this task they'd assigned Miss Lennox had not been officially sanctioned by the government. It was merely Wellington's and his cronies' effort to prevent their embarrassment should the
rebellion the Catholic Relief Act was passed to prevent become a reality.

“As for the Orange Parade tomorrow, he claims his resources are already stretched thin across the country. He said Rathfarnham will have to rely on its constabulary. That's what it was established for.”

“Is Chief Constable Corcoran prepared?”

Deep grooves appeared in his brow. “He claims so. Took great offense at my suggesting otherwise.”

“But you don't feel as confident as he does?”

“No. Not after yesterday.”

I studied his handsome face. There were lines of worry now etched there that had not been present a week and a half before, and his shoulders seemed weighted down with a great burden. I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his torso, resting my head against his chest. His arms reflexively lifted to hold me back, as if he'd been doing so his entire life.

“What do you plan to do?” I asked, knowing he'd already contemplated this. Gage was incapable of doing nothing if there was even the smallest thing to be done.

“Much as I'd rather stay away, I don't think we can. We need to be there to try to keep the spectators calm, or help those who are injured, or simply be witnesses to whatever occurs. The government might actually listen to people like us.”

I nodded against his shoulder, somewhat surprised he wasn't trying to keep me from attending.

Then he leaned back, forcing me to look up to meet his eyes. “But you must promise this time that you will listen to me while we're there. No questions, no hesitations. I need to know that I can keep you and Bree safe, and I can't do that if I think you won't listen.”

I lifted my head to reply, but his words forestalled me.

“I mean it, Kiera. Should it be worse than the cattle fair . . .” His voice stopped as he clamped down on whatever troubling thought had sprung to his mind. “Well, let's just hope it's not.”

“I promise,” I replied, not hesitating this time. I knew he wasn't trying to be overbearing. He merely wished to protect me the only way he thought he could.

“I'll want you to stand near the corner with the constabulary barracks and the Anglican Church. The Orangemen are less likely to cause trouble there, but if they do, there will be some sort of sanctuary for you to flee to.”

“Why
are
you letting me attend?” I couldn't resist asking, even if it meant making him reconsider his decision.

“Because the parade leads through all of Rathfarnham. Because I'm not sure I could get to you here or at the abbey if I needed to, and trouble has a remarkable way of finding you.” His scowl turned black. “Because I don't trust that you would stay put.
Something
would impel you to leave.”

I flushed with indignation. It was true. Trouble did seem to find me no matter the precautions taken to prevent it. Twice my life had been endangered by it. But I resented his implication that I couldn't stay put. The only times I'd ever disobeyed his wishes to stay safe had been for very good reasons. I wasn't some flighty hoyden, running about willy-nilly. I'd even saved
his
life once.

“That's unfair, Gage,” I bit out.

“Is it?” he challenged.

I stood, and crossed toward the cord to summon Bree. I refused to listen to any more of this. But before I could pull it, he caught me from behind, twirling me to face him.

His voice was tense as he pressed his forehead to mine. “We're never going to resolve this, are we? My wanting to keep you safe. Your insisting you can decide when it's reasonable to ignore me.”

“I suppose not,” I said more softly. “Not unless you stop trying to protect me so much. But . . .” I frowned. “I suppose I wouldn't like that either. Because it would mean you cared less.”

He gave a low laugh. “Well, I don't ever see that happening.”

I pressed closer, absorbing the warmth of his arms before tentatively pointing out, “You know, before we married, you promised you would let me make these sensible decisions.”

“Yes, well, what may sound rational and considered when making such a promise isn't so easy to accept when you're facing the very real prospect of your wife being harmed.” He turned his head, speaking into my hair. “I rather like going to sleep with you beside me and waking to find you still there. I should hate for anything to change that.”

T
he night was too quiet. Or at least, that's what I'd decided to blame for my sleeplessness rather than the worry spiraling through me, the facts of our inquiry tumbling about inside my head, the residual tension from my and Gage's earlier quarrel knotting my muscles. In the past, when I was feeling restless in the middle of the night, I would sit and sketch or work on one of the puzzles my brother-in-law had made for me. I'd not had much difficulty sleeping since our marriage, so I'd not packed any puzzles to bring with me, and just then I didn't feel like sketching. Instead, I lay staring at the ceiling, counting the divets in the plaster until I couldn't lie still any longer and got up to pace the room.

My husband slept on, heedless of my stirrings, and I moved toward the window to stare out at the cloud-shrouded moon. All was silent; all was still. That is, until the moment the moon peeked out from its pall to illuminate the girl at the edge of the carriage yard.

She stood in much the same place as she had before, half in shadow so that I could not see her face. Though what I could see of her looked older than that of the figure of a twelve-year-old girl. In any case, I didn't believe it was the ghost of Gertrude, or of anyone else for that matter. Her actions were too deliberate, too purposeful.

I slowly backed to the side, standing very still, and was
rewarded when the clouds swept their filmy gauze back across the moon and she moved. I watched as she dashed across the carriage yard toward the side garden gate. Dropping the curtains, I whirled around to wake Gage, finding him already risen up on his elbow.

“Kiera?” he asked blearily. “What is it?”

“That girl I saw before. She just dashed across the carriage yard toward the garden.”

I didn't have to say another word; Gage was already up out of the bedclothes and pulling on his trousers. He thrust his feet into a pair of shoes and grabbed a white shirt, yanking it over his head as he opened the bedchamber door. “Ring for Anderley.”

I did as I was told, hovering at the end of the bed near the door as Gage thundered down the steps. It seemed a decade before the valet appeared wide-eyed, but truly must have been only a matter of minutes. “Gage has gone after a girl who ran into the garden.” Before I'd finished getting the words out, he was following after him, leaving me to stand there uncertainly in my wrapper, staring through the doorway.

I hoped the girl wasn't simply one of the Priory servants returning from a tryst. I frowned. No, if that were true, she would not have taken the route she did. The servants' quarters in this home were in a separate wing on the opposite end of the house near the stable and barns. It would have been far easier to sneak through the shadows at the end of the carriage yard.

I had just begun to cross the landing when Bree appeared in one of the doorways to the right which must have led to a hidden servants' stair. “M'lady?” she asked in question.

Ignoring her query for the moment, I moved toward the doors across from my and Gage's. “Do you know which of these rooms has the best view of the gardens?”

She blinked in confusion and I stepped forward to open one of the doors in impatience. “No' that one,” she replied, hurrying to join me. “A tree blocks part o' the windows. The other one.”

I hurried into the next chamber, ignoring the blurry shapes of the furniture draped in sheets as I crossed toward the windows. But before I could even lift the drape aside, we heard the crack of a gunshot.

My heart leapt into my throat, and I felt the sickening sensation of dread creep over me. I couldn't remember whether Gage had taken his pistol. I thought not. Or Anderley. So who had fired that bullet, and at whom?

Ignoring the windows, I urged Bree from the room. “Wake whatever staff you need. Get some water boiling and find me some clean cloths.”

She did not need further instructions, but hurried off in the direction of the servants' stairs while I scurried down the front steps and into the parlor. I swept the room with my eyes, looking for the best spot to lay a gunshot victim. Though depending on the wound, the dining table might be best. I whirled around, undecided, and ultimately elected to wait and see.

Perhaps no one had been hit. Perhaps the shot had gone wide. But in my mind I kept seeing Mr. Scully lying in the back of that wagon, his lower leg a bloody mess. Except my imagination persisted in superimposing Gage's body in his place.

When finally I heard a door at the back of the passage open, I half expected to see a body being carried in. Instead, I saw the ashen complexion of Dempsey, the Priory's butler, trailed by Anderley and the sullen face of a young woman, whose upper arm was being gripped by Gage. I exhaled in relief, seeing no visible injuries.

That is, until Gage came fully into view. As he propelled the woman toward the parlor behind the other men, I could see that the other sleeve of his shirt was soaked with blood.

“Your arm,” I gasped, rushing forward. But he would not let me look at it until he'd pushed the girl into the room after the man, where Anderley could keep an eye on them both.

“It's only a graze,” Gage assured me in a tight voice. “Though they can still bleed like the devil.”

“And become infected,” I retorted. “We heard the gunshot. Bree is having water boiled.”

He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Later.”

“No. Now. You can question them while I clean the wound if it's truly so minor,” I challenged and then glanced toward the occupants of the room. “Who shot you?”

“The woman.”

I narrowed my eyes on her, but she turned away with a sulking twist of her head. “Who is she? I don't recognize her.”

“I do.” He did not elaborate, instead charging into the room with a restrained ferocity that had Dempsey quaking in his rumpled livery and seemed to have at least unnerved the girl. I had to admit, Gage did appear rather menacing, especially with half his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his rather impressive physique underneath and the blood covering his left arm.

He glared between them while Anderley stood to the side with his arms crossed. I had the distinct impression this wasn't the first time these two men had found themselves in such a situation.

“Now, which one of you would like to explain why Miss . . .” Gage arched his eyebrows at her, demanding her name. She kept her mouth defiantly shut.

“Hogan,” Dempsey supplied, and she threw a venomous look his way.

“Who would like to tell me why she's been sneaking about the Priory gardens?” His eyes hardened to chips of ice. “And why she decided to
shoot
me tonight rather than explain herself?”

The girl turned away again, staring at the wall, but Dempsey squirmed in his seat. He was clearly the one who was going to talk, not her. In the hopes of saving his position, if nothing else.

Bree entered the room then with the items I'd requested as well as a cup of willow bark tea, and I was partially distracted while we set the items out on the sideboard behind Gage.

“Miss Hogan an' I've been . . .” Dempsey cleared his
throat “. . . courtin'. And sometimes she'll come to visit me in the evenings, when she can get away.”

“From Eden Park.”

I looked up at Gage's pronouncement, dropping the cloth I'd been wringing out back into the water with a splash.

“Isn't that right, Miss Hogan? You work for Mr. LaTouche.”

Her eyes were worried now, but she still didn't speak.

Gage turned back to the butler. “Tell me, when did this . . . courting begin?”

He flushed. “'Tis recent.”

“Since we arrived?”

“Well . . .” he cast a look of confusion at the girl “. . . yes.”

“I see. I imagine she's been gratifyingly inquisitive about your work.” Gage hissed in a breath as I pressed the warm cloth to his arm, dabbing away the blood so that I could see the wound. Other than that small sound, he continued on heedless, “How you manage the staff, what sort of hours you've had to keep, what your latest visitors discuss.”

The butler's red face and sudden silence were answer enough.

Gage released him from his gaze, shifting his displeasure squarely to the real perpetrator. “Miss Hogan has been doing a bit of spying for Mr. LaTouche,” he declared with finality, not bothering to ask her a question she wouldn't answer. “I recognize her from the dinner party the other night. Mr. LaTouche seemed to pay particular attention to her.”

This time it was Miss Hogan's turn to blush, though whether it was from actual embarrassment or anger that she'd been found out, I didn't know.

“Would you like to speak now, Miss Hogan? Or shall I send for a constable?”

Her eyes widened, as if such a thought had never occurred to her.

“Surely . . .” the butler began to defend her, despite her duplicity.

But Gage cut him off. “She
shot
me. Perhaps the spying
bit was not her idea, but Mr. LaTouche cannot be held accountable for her pulling the trigger.”

“But I tot ye was gonna strap me, sure I did,” she gasped in a thick Irish brogue.

“I should hope you were afraid,” he replied without sympathy. “You were on someone else's property, where you had no right to be, skulking about in the middle of the night with a pistol. How else was I to view you but as an intruder with malicious intent?”

This silenced her again, but her belligerent glare told me she didn't exactly agree.

Now that much of the blood had been washed away, I could see that Gage was right. The bullet had merely grazed him, leaving a nasty-looking gash. The shirt was already ruined, so I tore the remainder of the sleeve off so that I could clean the wound properly.

He glanced down at me distractedly, speaking to the girl. “If you tell us what you know, I'll reconsider sending my man . . .” he nodded at Anderley “. . . after the authorities.”

“Reconsider?” she asked suspiciously.

Gage studied her. “If I believe you are being honest with us about what you know, then I will not call for a constable. Is that fair?”

“But I don't know nothin', I don't,” she argued.

“Just try.”

She sighed, lifting her eyes toward the ceiling, and then gave a jerky nod. “'Tis how ye said.” She glanced at Dempsey. “Mr. LaTouche asked me to cozy up to someone here an' be findin' oot what I could about ye. 'Twasn't much.” She pouted. “'Least Mr. LaTouche wasn't happy wit what I could tell him. Kept tellin' me to be findin' oot more, but how could I?” She glanced at Anderley. “Tried to cozy up to dat'n, but he'd no' have it.”

Deciding the wound was as clean as I could make it, I began to bind it with one of the clean strips of cloth.

“Did Mr. LaTouche explain
why
he wanted you to spy on us?”

She shook her head. “I don't know, sure I don't. But . . .” She hesitated. “He and Master Colin, they been talkin' 'bout the abbey. 'Bout a girl there.”

Gage's eyes met mine in understanding. Mr. LaTouche was either guilty, or bound and determined to make himself look so.

He nodded to Dempsey. “Show Miss Hogan out. Though I do believe we'll be keeping her pistol.” But he stopped the man with a hand to his shoulder as he passed. “I trust in the future you'll be a bit more circumspect.”

“Yes, sir. I don't have to learn my lessons twice.”

“Good.”

I thrust the cup of willow bark tea into Gage's hands and watched as the pair slipped through the door. “Drink it.”

He didn't argue, though I knew the drink was far from tasty. His wound must have hurt him more than he wanted to admit.

“Do you think it was wise to let her go? She's bound to tell LaTouche that we caught her.”

He gritted his teeth, forcing down the last swallow as he passed me back the cup. “Maybe. Maybe not. But if she does, I don't think LaTouche will do anything drastic. After all, his sending her to spy on us doesn't prove anything other than that he's mistrustful. If he chooses to panic and run, he would actually be doing us a favor, for nothing would prove his guilt more.”

“And if that maid turns up dead?”

He turned to me in some surprise. “She won't. That would sign his death warrant. He's impulsive, but not an idiot.”

I hoped he was right. As sullen and foolhardy as the girl had been—shooting Gage and refusing to speak, even to save her own skin—I wanted no harm to come to her.

“No. LaTouche might lose a night's sleep, but he won't run. In fact, if I've read his character correctly, I expect he'll come to us.” He scowled. “Which is all to my liking. The sooner we can uncover the truth and get out of this senseless mess, the better.”

•   •   •

T
he Orange Day Parade was scheduled to begin sometime around midmorning, so we made certain to arrive long before that, positioning ourselves at the corner of the constabulary as planned. The officers of the constabulary forces had already taken up posts throughout the village, some on horseback and others on foot, including Chief Constable Corcoran, who tipped his hat to us, before returning his focus to a pair of his men. We'd noticed Constable Casey on our drive into the village, standing with another man in front of the Yellow House. Between the dark green of their uniforms, the green ribbons of the Ribbonmen, and the bright orange sashes and pins worn by those celebrating Orange Day, the gathering crowd became a rather colorful sight.